Silence in the Library
by WeAllHaveAnEscape
Summary: AU. Featuring Librarian!Doctor, Teacher!Clara, and quite a bit of whouffle to tie it all together. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Another keen whoufflepuff about to push their writing out towards the world. Little bit nervous about putting this up, so I hope you enjoy, and reviews always appreciated :) Please excuse any spelling errors, I'm pulling the it's-late-and-I'm-tired excuse for those today.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, I do not own Doctor Who.**

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Every Wednesday, she's there.

Always curled up on a beanbag in the corner, a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a book in the other, usually a classic of some sort (Pride and Prejudice seems to be her favourite), though the odd Amelia Williams appears every now and then. Sometimes she sits with a notepad and pencil, either writing or drawing something, he can't tell from behind the counter. But whatever she's doing, she's always there, arriving at about four and normally not leaving until around seven thirty.

The routine's always the same, in she comes, quick smile, picks out a book and sits on her beanbag, reads said book, gets up, another quick smile and off she goes. He's had many visitors in the four years he's owned his library, but none of them quite this consistent. He's hesitant to admit it, but he finds her quite interesting, often wondering what she's writing, or why she's reading a particular book, or whether her name is Clara, Lara, Claire or Cara, as her Starbucks cups frequently have written on them. But he never asks, content to sit behind his computer screen with a game of solitaire on the go, keeping an eye on her throughout the afternoon.

It's only when she crashes in one Wednesday afternoon, devoid of Starbucks, wielding an umbrella and looking slightly traumatised that he finally plucks up the courage to speak to her.

"Everything okay?"

She whips her head around, his voice making her jump. "Depends on your perspective. I'm not entirely convinced anybody's okay after battling English weather in November for an hour with nothing but an umbrella with a hole in it for protection, only to find their favourite coffee shop closed and losing a shoe twenty minutes later."

He smiled slightly, taking in her windswept appearance and lack of right shoe. "Radiator's on."

"Best two words I've heard all day."

Removing the remaining shoe, shaking out the umbrella outside and leaning against the blissfully warm and dry radiator for a few minutes, she dragged her beanbag over to it and settled down, removing her cardigan to let it dry. She opened her rucksack and peered inside it, rummaging around in slight desperation before letting out a small groan and flopping back against the radiator.

"Lost something?"

"Twenty-three GCSE science papers, apparently."

"Ah."

"Yep."

They fell in to a slightly uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the odd sigh from Lara/Clara/Claire/Cara (he still wasn't sure, not helped by the lack of named coffee cup).

"On that note, I need something about as distant from chemistry as you can get. Care to help out?" she asked from across the room, looking up at the shelves around her as if hoping a book would magically fly towards her.

"Harry Potter. Doesn't matter how old you are, still got to love a bit of Rowling."

"'Doesn't matter how old you are' - are you saying I look old?"

He'd taken a sip of tea by that point, which was a mistake as he almost spat it back out, worried he'd offended her. "No, no, not at all, you look young, really young, not old, opposite of old, honest-"

He was cut off by a chuckle coming from her direction. "Point taken," she said with a smile. "Right then, Chin Boy, do I go for Chamber of Secrets or Prisoner of Azkaban?"

"Prisoner of Azkaban, definit-wait, what's wrong with my chin?"

"Careful, dear. You'll take someone's eye out."

"Impossible. We're the only people in here and you're about twenty metres away."

"Well, aren't you mister clever then?"

He straightened his bowtie, looking rather smug. "Prisoner of Azkaban's over to your left, third shelf down."

By the time she'd fetched the book, he was hovering next to her beanbag with a second mug in his hand. She looked first at the cup and then at him, her tired brain failing to comprehend that yes, the mug was for her.

"You look freezing, this might help. No coffee, I'm afraid, just some hot chocolate."

"Right now it's possibly the most appealing substance on the planet. Thanks."

Taking the mug from him, she sat herself down as he returned to his desk. A hour of silence followed, her lost in the world of Hogwarts and him experimenting with various pieces of computer coding. The time passed surprisingly quickly, the silence broken by the sound of rain beginning to patter against the window. It sparked another soft groan from the direction of the radiator.

"More rain. Which I have to walk an hour in. With one shoe."

His immediate reaction is to offer her a lift, but he holds the thought back, wondering if it'd be taken the wrong way. After all, he still doesn't even know her name, he just knows her as the woman with the coffee cup who reads her way through his library every Wednesday. Though on the other hand, he couldn't exactly make her walk for so long with a single shoe remaining in this weather, especially when it'd be dark too, could he? No, he couldn't. She could get mugged. Or she could fall and get hurt. Or she could get lost.

Or, you know, she'd be perfectly fine since he assumed she normally walked home. But never mind.

"I could drop you off? My car's just outside."

"I feel like I should be rejecting this to be polite, but if it's between spending my evening out there or remaining dry by taking you up on that, I'm going with the latter, if you don't mind."

"Not in the slightest. Let me know when you're ready to go."

"Will do."

* * *

"So, where do you live?"

"In any other circumstances I'd be slightly worried by now."

He glanced over at her, sat delicately in the passenger seat of his blue Mini Cooper. "Well I can assure you I'm not planning any surprise attacks, if that helps at all."

"Always good to know. Turn left here."

He followed her command, turning into Coleman Avenue. "Which number?"

"27. Well, 27E, it's the block of flats on the left."

Pulling to a stop, he parked just outside the appropriate building, leaning forwards to put the heating up slightly as he did.

"Well, here we are, still in one piece."

She smiled, undoing her seatbelt and retrieving her rucksack from the back seat. "Thank you so much for this."

"Not a problem. See you next Wednesday, Miss...?"

"Oswald. Clara Oswald."

"See you next Wednesday, Miss Oswald."

"And you?"

"The Doctor. Just the Doctor."

"See you Wednesday then. Can you hold back Great Expectations? Been meaning to read it for a while now."

"Mental note made."

She smiled once more, before turning and making her way up the path. He watched until he saw a light flick on about halfway up the block, before starting up the engine and setting off in to the night, the words 'Great Expectations' swirling about in his mind as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well this has had a very nice reception! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and/or followed, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)**

**Also, if anybody's interested, I can be found on tumblr as whouffles-and-souffles too :)**

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**Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, I do not own Doctor Who.**

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Instead of a Wednesday, it was a Sunday when they next met.

It was the first of December and Tennant Square was packed with shoppers, all wanting to get the hassle of Christmas shopping done whilst they could. The market stalls were in full swing, decked out with tinsel in bright shades of red, green and gold. A large Christmas tree had appeared in the centre, and he watched as children stared up at it in awe, wanting to get closer as their parents held them back. Even the street lamps had little decorations hanging from them, an array of golden lights decorate the sky, and the sound of carol singers could be heard somewhere to his left.

Normally the Doctor liked walking through the market, especially during an event or holiday, but on that day it was almost unbearable with the sheer amount of people pushing their way around. Luckily his height allowed him to see above a good portion of the crowd, and he could see an exit point, which he began to slowly move towards, trying not to tread on anybody's foot as he did (a difficult task as he couldn't actually see anybody's feet, let alone how to avoid them).

By the time he'd managed to get to the spot he wanted, the crowd seemed to have almost doubled, surrounding him with eager shoppers once more. Hastily retreating, he felt himself bump in to somebody, sending them flying. His reflexes were quick to react, spinning around and looping an arm around the person's waist before they hit the concrete.

"Clara?"

"Doctor?"

He set her on her feet again, looking at her. "What are you doing here?"

A sigh escaped her lips. "Christmas shopping. Or, that was my intention. I've had a serious rethink after seeing this lot. What about you?"

"Thought I'd grab some breakfast before I open the library. Big mistake."

She chuckled. "Well, I'm starving, so if you can get me out of here unharmed then I'll pay for a sandwich."

"Deal."

With the Doctor setting an arm gently around her shoulders, the two battled their way through the crowds for what seemed like an eternity. People of all shapes and sizes were shoving their way through, and the Doctor was glad he'd kept hold of Clara as he was certain she'd have disappeared by that point, almost everybody there was around a head taller than her (not that he cared to point it out, valuing his right arm too much to do so).

"Doctor?" he heard her call over the noise of their fellow shoppers.

"Yep?"

"Could we head back to your library after this? Too many people about for my liking," she called, having to raise her voice quite considerably despite being right next to him. His immediate reaction was to nod, though he soon realised she couldn't see him.

"Bit keen, are we?"

"Says the man who practically jumped over the desk to offer me a lift on Wednesday and currently has his arm slung over my shoulders."

Okay. He should have seen that coming.

Having chosen to remain silent, the Doctor finally pointed them towards what looked like a small clearing. Their pace increased as they fought to get there, tossing aside all thoughts of politeness for the sake of the space to breathe. Clara could have sworn she heard somebody mutter something about "goddamn youths" as they pushed and shoved towards the suddenly beautiful bit of pavement.

"That was hideous. I refuse to go shopping on a Sunday again, especially when there's something important going on," Clara breathed, leaning against a wall as she regained some air in to her lungs. The Doctor let his arm fall away from her shoulders, pushing all thoughts of how comfortable it was and how surprisingly nice it felt firmly out of his brain. _For goodness' sake, you've only had two conversations with her!_

"I'm seeing what looks suspiciously like a Starbucks sign over there. Care to join?"

"I think that beats 'radiator's on' for the best sentence I've heard this week."

"Prepare for the misspelled coffee cup name."

"I'm ready to spend the next five hours as Lara. Definitely wouldn't be the first time."

It didn't take long for them to be perched by a window on a pair of ridiculously high stools. Clara had some difficulty getting up in the first place, flashing an angry look which had the words _don't you dare_ written all over it. He held up his hands in mock-surrender as she dropped her handbag on to the seat, a pot of pasta next to it. "Ready to brave the coffee line?" she asked, gesturing towards the queue of about fifteen people, all looking as cold and impatient as the next. He nodded, placing his jacket around the stool to avoid somebody taking it, and following her along.

"Name and order?"

"Clara, I'll have a gingerbread latte."

"And you?"

"Sorry?"

"Name and order, please."

"Oh. Yes, right, I'm the Doctor, and basic hot chocolate for me."

If the woman was wondering about his name, she didn't show it, moving on to the people who had joined the line behind them. Clara turned slightly to face him.

"Why do you call yourself Doctor? Got to be a reason behind it."

"I'm not sure really. I've had the name years. I think it started when I hacked in to a medical database to give myself a prescription for some paracetamol. They wouldn't let me have it since I was about twelve at the time, but I had a two day migraine, so I felt like under the circumstances, it was okay."

"Not quite sure what to say to that."

"Not a lot of people are," he agreed as they shuffled forwards. "I didn't make a habit of it, but the name just...stuck. I suppose that's how it often is."

"Probably. So, what's your real name?"

"John Smith. As boring as boring gets."

Clara studied him for a moment, biting her lower lip. "The Doctor suits you better, I think," she mused, before turning on her heel as they heard "one gingerbread latte for Carla!" shouted from a barista. She rolled her eyes as she went to collect her drink. "Carla. Well, it's a new one," she muttered to herself, standing to the side as she waited for the Doctor to join her.

"So, Carla," the Doctor began, though a sharp look from Clara soon stopped him. "Don't push it, you. The fate of your coffee lies within reach of my left hand. Wouldn't it be a shame if I were to fall and spill it all over that...interesting bowtie of yours?"

"Oi, bowties are cool."

"Whatever you say, Chin Boy."

"What's wrong with my chin?!"

She simply smirked in response, setting her breakfast down and climbing in to the stool, praying neither of her shoes would fall off as she did. Once she'd arranged herself comfortably, a silent period of food appreciation fell over the pair as they simultaneously dug in to their meals. Clara was surprised to find she finished first, usually being a good ten minutes behind her flatmate. The Doctor took his time, content to sit and watch the people go about their daily lives for a bit.

She waited for him to finish before initiating another conversation. "Out of interest, why do you work in a library you own? Surely you could just employ somebody else?"

He shrugged. "I don't like the thought of having nothing to do. Besides, I like seeing the different people come in and out, and being surrounded by books all day? Win-win situation."

"True."

"So, what do you do? I'm guessing teaching from Wednesday's exam papers?"

"Yep. Just left training. Thrown straight in to a bear pit of year seven and year eleven chemistry, with a side of year eight biology."

"Ouch. GCSE on your first year?"

"Sadly so. Students aren't bad but the marking is a nightmare."

"Science, then?"

"Yeah. It was my favourite subject at school. Well, chemistry was. Physics bored me to tears, still does to be honest, so I'm glad I've not been given any of that."

"Speaking of chemistry, did you ever find those papers?"

"Fortunately. I'd left them on my desk instead, had to mark at double the speed but I got them done."

"Good, good. Grades alright?"

"Yep. It was only a mock, but nobody below a C."

He nodded. "Well, that's good. Reflects well on you, too."

"Always a positive. Did you hold back Great Expectations?"

"I did, it's ready and waiting for you."

"Well, why wait? I've been looking forwards to reading that for a long time now."

This earned her a smile. Great Expectations was one of the Doctor's own favourites, and from what he knew of Clara so far, she'd enjoy it. Getting to his feet, he checked his library keys were in his pocket before holding the door open, glad to see the crowd had thinned out somewhat in the hour they'd been inside.

Clara had taken the bus, so was more than grateful to discover the Doctor had his car. It was strange how at ease they were with each other already, though technically they'd known each other for a good nine months, save for lack of conversation. Shrugging, she climbed in to the passenger seat as the engine came to life, looking forwards to being able to curl up on her beanbag again so soon.

The roads were icy, so it took a little longer than expected, but she soon saw the familiar building. Since learning his identity, the library's name of 'The Doctor's Archive' made much more sense to her now than it had before, and she realised that the shade of the door matched the colour of his car too. Strange how people so easily overlook small details.

The Doctor closed the door, not bothering to change the sign to 'open' as hardly anybody came in on a Sunday anyway. Okay, yes, he was also rather enjoying Clara's company, and didn't want another customer to interrupt it, but that wasn't something he was planning to admit any time soon.

Diving behind the counter, he reached around before producing a copy of Great Expectations. Handing it over to Clara with pride, he watched her eyes widen.

"You've got a first edition? And you keep it on display?!"

"Not exactly. It's my copy, I prefer not to rent it out as it was difficult to find."

"I bet it was! Honestly, this must be worth hundreds by now."

"Probably, but I prefer sentimental value over the price of something."

She said nothing, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that she, Clara Oswald, was holding a book over a hundred years old. Her love of books had come from her mother, and for several years she'd wondered about being an author herself. Her patience was what let her down, she was more likely to abandon something if it was going badly than persevere providing it wasn't important, so that had put a stop to those thoughts. Besides, she was perfectly happy to lose herself in a world of other people's creations as it was.

She was about thirty pages in when a pair of feet and a cushion appeared beside her. "Mind if I join you?" the Doctor asked, looking hopeful. Clara smiled, nodding as she shuffled over to give him more radiator room. He had a copy of H.G. Wells' 'The War of the Worlds' tucked under one arm, with a packet of Jammy Dodgers in his other hand. Making himself comfortable, he offered her one, which she gladly took, careful not to spill any crumbs on the pages.

They remained like that peacefully for another three and a half hours, both of them happily content to sit quietly with the other, lost in their separate worlds yet remaining connected in the real one.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again lovely people :) Thank you as always to everybody who's reviewed, favourited and followed! Also, to Laura, I've done my best to bring out Clara's more sassy/confident side here, so I hope it's worked. To UchihaHakura64, I love that idea, and it's very likely it'll crop up in the future, so thank you very much! I've set this about three weeks onwards on the basis of Clara now visiting roughly two to three times a week. Reviews always appreciated :)**

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Normally, Clara gets a nice greeting when she arrives at The Doctor's Archive. A smile, a hello, a 'how are you today?' and a Jammy Dodger or two from the Doctor. So, naturally, she was somewhat expecting that kind of interaction as she made her way towards the building and opened the door with a soft tinkling of the bell.

Instead, she was met with the smell of burning and the sound of something clattering to the floor from somewhere to the right.

Going well, then.

Dropping her bag by the door, she headed over to the source of the unsavoury smell to discover the Doctor standing in what appears to be a small kitchen, oven gloves on and a tray of something she didn't recognise in his left hand. The fact that what she presumed was once food was practically cremated in a misshapen heap didn't help the situation, as she stood and stared with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, hello Clara. Didn't expect you to be here so soon. I was just making toast."

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but when I think toast I think of lightly golden bread, not a pile of burnt crumbs stuck to an oven tray."

"Ah. Yes. Well, I don't have a toaster here, so I had to improvise. As you can see, it went...well..."

"Atrociously?" she finished for him.

"Hmm."

Walking over to him, Clara slid her hands underneath the oven gloves, removed the tray from his grip with them and threw the whole thing in to the bin, giving it a pat as she closed it. "That's enough of that, then. Time you learned to cook, Chin Boy."

"What is _wrong_ with my chin?! And I can cook very well, thank you very much."

"Neither cremated toast nor a plate of Jammy Dodgers qualifies as cooking. I'm talking about the kind where you put the food in the oven and it comes out as something vaguely edible."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, before realising she was right. His idea of dinner was different to a lot of other people's, usually involving some sort of mishap and a last-minute rethink. And by last minute he secretly means after attempting whatever mess he's created before deciding it genuinely is inedible and finding something with very clear instructions on the packet that he looks at at least seven times during cooking.

Before he knew it, Clara was standing by the surface surrounded by various packages and a very determined look on her face. "Right then. Clara's cooking class, day one - soufflés. And don't think I'll go easy on you."

The Doctor looked at the various ingredients. He hadn't even known he owned half of them. After all, his kitchen here was only designed for various levels of hot beverage-making, not full on cooking lessons. But hey. Maybe it'd be fun?

* * *

Go along with it, he'd told himself. Maybe it'd be fun, he'd said.

Not so much.

His limb-flailing had shown Clara exactly why he wasn't a fantastic chef. Within ten minutes they were both coated in flour, they'd had four attempts and counting on separating the egg yolks from the whites, and Clara looked like she was on the verge of tears as she stared at his recent mistake.

"How did you manage to _break a hole_ in the bowl?"

"I don't know, I just...did! Stupid bowl."

"But it's about a centimetre thick and solid plastic!"

"Perhaps, but technically the density means it's subject to-"

"Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Don't talk physics or mechanics or whatever you're about to launch in to to me now, please."

"Says the science teacher."

"Do you honestly think that now is the time?"

He fell silent, feeling a bit guilty. "I've got another bowl, if that helps at all?"

She straightened herself up with a sigh. After all, it wasn't his fault. "Right then Doctor. Fetch that, forget the cookbook, we're doing this full-on Oswald-style."

"Quick question, should I be scared?"

"Probably. But I've never broken a hole in any containers of any sort, so things won't get any worse."

Nodding, the Doctor spun on his heel to find the other bowl, whilst Clara tipped the waste mixture in to the bin, and the broken bowl with it. Opening his cupboard doors, she searched around for a bit, returning with cocoa powder, cinnamon, pepper, chocolate chips, hundreds and thousands, a spring onion and some diced strawberries, lining them up. The Doctor returned with the required equipment, eyeing up the cinnamon suspiciously.

"So, what's the Oswald way of baking soufflés?"

Clara turned so she was facing him. "Well, it's pretty much the same as the recipe. The bit that makes it different from the cookbook was my mother's habit of getting a large selection of ingredients, closing her eyes and randomly selecting two of them. Doesn't matter what they are, once they've been chosen they have to be used. The soufflé isn't the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe, she'd tell me. Once you've gotten that down, it's yours to go crazy with, sparking this method. Even better if you bake more than one, which is what I intend to do. When the first soufflé is finished, the ingredients used will be removed from the selection, they'd be mixed up again, and then I'd close my eyes and pick two, repeat the process. Two completely different soufflés, could be nice, could be horrible. Luck of the draw. Understand?"

He saluted, making her smile. "Understood, Captain Oswald." He'd noticed the use of the word 'was' when she spoke about her mother in that sentence, and decided to stay quiet on it, watching instead as she demonstrated measuring and mixing the ingredients one by one, until it came to the selection time.

"I'll choose first. So just mix them up randomly, and I'll choose two."

The Doctor nodded. Checking Clara had closed her eyes completely, he switched the ingredients around. "Okay, done," he said, waiting for her to choose.

Her hand reached forwards and she bit her lip. Eventually, she selected two tins, opening her eyes and groaning.

"Cinnamon and hundreds and thousands?!"

The Doctor grinned at her, removing them. "Might I remind you that you chose them?"

"Not on purpose!"

"True. Right then, my turn."

After the Doctor had somehow managed to pick out the rather tasty-sounding combination of cocoa powder and the diced strawberries, they set the separate mixtures in the baking tins and put them in, Clara saying a silent prayer for her own soufflé. If anything else went wrong, she knew she'd never hear the end of it.

"Half an hour to go. What do you want to do until then?"

"I feel like the sensible answer would be to clean up," Clara replied, looking around at the flour-covered kitchen with her eyebrows raised. "But after the ordeal of this afternoon, I think we need a break. Got anything good on that computer of yours?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just something to fill the time with that isn't any of your confusing computer...stuff."

The Doctor paused. "Well, we have YouTube at our disposal. Comedy of some sort?"

Clara nodded, following him back through. The library was luckily still empty, she wasn't sure how well either of them would be able to explain to any browsers just what had been going on. They fired up YouTube and decided on an episode of Miranda, one of the Doctor's favourites. Clara recognised it; it was one of her fathers favourites, though she didn't know the show too well.

They came to a minor hitch when it came to seating arrangements, as the Doctor only had one chair, but that was resolved when Clara boldly decided to sit on him instead. He was shocked at first, not quite sure what to do with his arms. Eventually, he wrapped them around her waist. "To...to stop you falling," he hastily added, to which Clara nodded. "Of course," she agreed, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she leant forwards to click 'play'.

They sat in a comfortable silence as the sitcom went on. It turned out to have been a good thing that the Doctor had some sort of hold on her, as their laughter kept causing her to slip forwards slightly. By the end of the half an hour required, her ribs were aching, both from laughter and from the awkward position she'd ended up in to avoid slipping further. He waited until her feet were just above the ground before gently letting her go, hopping down as they went to check their soufflés.

By some kind of miracle they'd come out reasonably well; nice and fluffy, though Clara's was a bit of a strange colour. She served them up anyway, adding a small sprinkling of icing sugar over the top. Handing the Doctor a fork, they went for the experimental tasting.

Cinnamon and hundreds and thousands was certainly an interesting taste, but it wasn't quite as bad as she'd imagined. Admittedly she couldn't quite find the willpower to finish it and pinched some of the Doctor's instead, but it had been an experience at least. They alternated bites until there was nothing left, and Clara announced they needed to clean up. After a bit of whining on his part and a dishcloth to the face, the Doctor decided to help her out, and about half an hour later the room was almost spotless.

"Well, I think I'd best be off, unfortunately."

He nodded with a slightly nervous grin. "See you tomorrow, maybe? Grab a coffee or something?"

"Down boy," she joked, before her smirk fell in to a more relaxed smile, looking up at him. "Sounds like a plan. I'll meet you here at twelve?"

"Twelve it is."

"See you then, Chin Boy."

"And you, Soufflé Girl."

* * *

**A/N: The hole-in-the-bowl episode was based on a personal cooking experience of mine. My friend managed to punch a hole in one with a spoon when mixing cupcake batter. So there's a little trivia fact for you all.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Not as much Doctor in this one as there has been in previous chapters since I'm introducing Clara's flatmate to bring in a little bit of a home background for her. Reviews appreciated, as always :)**

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"Nina! Have you got my hairbrush?!"

"In here!"

Clara rubbed her eyes again, stretching. She wasn't a morning person at all, but as she was meeting the Doctor at twelve, she'd set her alarm for nine. Flinging the duvet off of her and sitting up, she gave her eyes another rub before getting up and padding through to the room where Nina, her flatmate, was waiting for her with the desired hairbrush.

"Right. Details. Who is he, why is he important and how in the name of all that is good in the world has he managed to get you out of bed before ten on a Sunday?"

"Huh?"

Nina sighed. "You never, ever get up before ten on a weekend. Nor do you brush your hair until just before you walk out the door, not even for your family sometimes. It's clearly something to do with a bloke. And I want to know what's going on."

Clara looked at her. "For goodness' sake, it's just coffee. He's a good friend who owns the library I like, and he's asked me to lunch."

"So he's asked you out."

"Nina, it's just coffee and he's just a friend!"

Her flatmate smirked. "That's what they all say."

"Just give me my hairbrush, please."

"Over on my bedside table."

"Thank you," Clara replied, rolling her eyes over-dramatically and fetching the hairbrush. "Any other CSI-style interrogations before I start getting ready?"

"Not yet. Maybe this evening though."

Clara sighed, turning on her heel and heading back in to her own room. Dropping her hairbrush on her bed, she walked over to the wardrobe, which had been painted a dark blue and had her name painted on it. Nina was in her second year at art school, and had decided to practice her homework on her flatmates furniture. Not that Clara minded, as it usually improved the general appearance of whatever item she'd decided to edit, though coming home at half eleven to her bedroom stinking of paint wasn't always the most fun experience.

Opening the doors, she began to rifle through her clothing, deciding on a black dress with a red-rose pattern, her leather jacket, some thick tights and her ankle boots. Pulling out the items of clothing, she got dressed and began to work on her hair, which had decided that today would be a good time to give her a nasty case of bed-hair. It took a good twenty minutes to drag the brush through the strands, and another ten to straighten the top so it didn't frizz.

Was she putting too much effort in? Probably, if Nina was anybody to go by. But who cared? She simply wanted to look nice, that was all. Rubbing in a bit of foundation to avoid the I-just-ran-four-miles-in-the-cold redness, she headed through to their kitchen, the smell of bacon enticing her to walk just that bit faster.

"Any chance of breakfast?"

"Depends on whether you want bacon breath all morning or not," Nina replied, taking it out of the grill. "Though in saying that, I've got mouthwash, so you're good to go even if you do."

"Bacon it is then."

* * *

"So," Nina began, between bites of her sandwich. "This Doctor. Who actually _is_ he?"

"You know that library I like, The Doctor's Archive?"

"Mm?"

"Well, he owns it. Works as the librarian too. We started talking, I bumped in to him in town a couple of weeks ago and yesterday he asked me if I wanted to grab some lunch with him."

"Why is he called Doctor?"

"Long story involving prescriptions, computer coding, and a rebellious twelve year old. I guess it just stuck."

"Hmm. Bit of a dork, then?"

"Little bit, but it suits him. As long as he doesn't try and drag me in to a game of Dragons and Dungeons, then we're good."

"Dungeons and Dragons, not Dragons and Dungeons. And there's nothing wrong with it, thank you very much."

"Yeah, because you actually know how to play it. I don't, and I'm perfectly happy for it to stay that way."

Nina pouted slightly. "I could teach you."

"Definitely not."

"Fine. And it's nearing eleven, you've got your date soon."

"For the last time, it is not a date!"

* * *

"I'm so sorry, the train was delayed!"

The Doctor turned around to see a slightly flustered Clara Oswald running towards him, a little out of breath. She'd clearly been running for a while as she came to a stop in front of him, panting quite a bit as she regained her breath.

"Hey, it's alright!" the Doctor said, offering her a reassuring smile, which she returned. Digging out her hairbrush, she used the library window as a mirror, smoothing her hair down as her heart rate slowed. It was twenty past twelve by that point, and she was only glad he hadn't given up entirely. Once she was finished, she turned around to find him looking at her. She was about to ask if she had something on her face when he offered her his arm, which she took gladly, linking her elbow through his.

"Next stop, Caffe Vergnano, Covent Garden!" the Doctor said excitedly, looking at Clara with a hopeful expression, wondering if she'd be okay with their destination. She raised both her eyebrows with a smile. "Never been there, but by the look on your face, it'll be worth it," she said to him, climbing in the passenger seat as usual. She'd become quite accustomed to his old, blue Mini, and made herself comfortable as he started up the engine.

"It's about twenty minutes away, if that's alright with you?"

"Absolutely fine."

The journey passed silently, as the Doctor wasn't particularly good at talking to Clara and paying attention to the road at the same time. Clara busied herself by reading a magazine filled with book reviews, looking for anything new she might like. 'Chosen by a Horse' by Susan Richards was gaining popularity, which made her frown as the book was released a good five years ago. Turning to the cover, she then saw that the copy was from 2008. Trust the Doctor to keep hold of magazines five years out of date.

"Right then, here we are!"

The Doctor climbed out of the car to pay the parking meter, whilst Clara sorted out her handbag and replaced the magazine where she'd found it. When the Doctor returned, she slipped her arm through his again as they walked through the back roads to reach the busy square where the café was. Clara had been to Covent Garden before, but not for a good two or three years, so it was practically a new experience for her. Golden Christmas lights lit up the square as they walked through it, and the distinct smell of gingerbread filled the air, reminding her of more childhood baking sessions with her mother.

The Doctor guided her towards a smallish building with the words 'Caffe Vergnano 1882' written on the top. It was smarter than she'd been expecting, but not luxuriously so, it had a laid-back feel to it and certainly smelled nice. She couldn't help feeling flattered when it turned out the Doctor had made a reservation, though it looked like Nina was right when she'd said it was a bit of a date. Not that Clara minded, she was glad to be out with him, especially when good coffee was involved.

They sat by the window, watching the shoppers go by as they looked through the menu. A waiter hovered next to them, preparing to take their orders. Clara ended up opting for an 'Espresso Gianduja', a fancy name for an espresso with chocolate and whipped cream. The Doctor opted for an 'Espresso Con Panna'; basically the same as hers but minus the chocolate. She felt a bit guilty after realising her order was the more expensive of the two, but the Doctor didn't bat an eyelid, so she let the feeling pass.

They talked between themselves for the minutes it took for their orders to arrive. Once they did, there was a silent moment of coffee appreciation not unlike the one in Starbucks those weeks ago. Clara found herself getting a bit of a sense of déjà vu - sitting next to the Doctor with some coffee, looking out of a window at people Christmas shopping. Certainly wasn't the first time they'd done that, and she hoped it wouldn't be the last either.

"Ready for Christmas then, Miss Oswald?"

"Certainly am. Finally found a present for Nina, my flatmate."

The Doctor remembered an episode the previous Tuesday where Clara had been stressing out about how she'd bought nothing for her friend. It had taken another round of Oswald-style soufflé-making and three episodes of Miranda for her to finally realise that she still had a week and that she wasn't going to get anywhere by worrying.

"What have you bought her?"

"The Lord of the Rings trilogy box set. Never seen them myself but she loves them, she went to a midnight screening and all-what?"

The Doctor's eyes had widened considerably. "You've never seen The Lord of the Rings?!" he said in disbelief, and she shook her head. "Never."

"Well, that settles that then."

"Settles what?"

"I'm putting myself in charge of your film-watching habits, starting tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight. Clara Oswald, would you like to accompany me to my flat for a private watching of The Fellowship of the Ring?"

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious! You don't have to, of course, but-"

"No, sounds great."

"Really?"

"Really really."

The Doctor set his now-empty cup down. "Well, that's settled, then."

"It certainly is."

* * *

After another two hours of browsing through the streets of London, the couple made their way to the Doctor's flat. Clara was already curious as to what it looked like - was it clean? Messy? Modern? Vintage? Admittedly, she was picturing something untidy but in an endearing way, so she was surprised to see it was devoid of clutter.

The furniture was mainly wood, a large television opposite a sofa with a tartan blanket thrown over it. His kitchen was all polished surfaces, everything tucked away in brown oak drawers and cupboards. She didn't see his bedroom, feeling it to be a bit personal to ask to see it, but imagined it was very much the same. It didn't surprise her to find two packets of Jammy Dodgers on the table in his lounge, nor the fact that he had two cushions patterned with bowties. It was surprising that the blanket wasn't covered in them either, he seemed to like them enough to decorate his whole house with them.

After she'd finished looking around, he popped the DVD in as the familiar title screen appeared. Joining Clara on the sofa, he swapped natural daylight for a small lamp so that they could see better. She removed her shoes and curled her legs up beneath her, much like she did on her beanbag when they were at the library.

By the time they were about an hour and a half in to the film, she'd found herself leaning against the Doctor's side, thoroughly engrossed. He'd collectively spent more time watching Clara than the screen, watching how she frowned and smiled, how she bit her lip when the characters were figuring things out and how her eyes followed every detail of movement whenever the scene changed. She seemed to be enjoying herself anyway, which was what he found important.

By the time they reached the third hour, however, another sound effect was filling the air, one that was definitely not coming from the television screen. Looking down, he saw that the noise was coming from Clara, who'd fallen asleep against his shoulder. The sound effect was the odd tiny snore coming from her, something he stored away for possible teasing knowledge later, and something he also found absolutely adorable.

He decided to let her sleep until the end of the film, before quietly removing her from his side and giving her a light shake, watching as her eyes blinked open. "Doctor?"

"You fell asleep during Fellowship of the Ring."

"Oh. Well. Okay."

"To be honest, I think you'd best get home. No offence, but you look exhausted, I didn't notice earlier today."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel good."

"Clara."

"Sorry."

He smiled, leaning forwards and kissing her forehead lightly. "Come on," he began, helping her up off the sofa. "Time for bed, I think."

"Down, boy. There is such a thing as too keen."

It took him a moment to cotton on to what she meant, but when he did, he found himself blushing a deep red. "Clara! I-no!"

She laughed at his discomfort, following him out of his flat and down to his car. "Calm down, Chin Boy, I'm only teasing."

"I should hope that's all, Soufflé Girl. Coleman Avenue, isn't it?"

"Yeah, third left off of Sladen Road."

"Got it."

Clara had to fight to stay awake during the journey. Despite having been all energy earlier in the day, she found herself exhausted, probably from the stress of the year eleven mock exams of that week. And the fact that she'd been up until three marking biology homework from her year eight group, but she decided to try and forget about that event.

Though despite her sleep-avoiding attempts, she must have drifted off at some point as the next thing she knew, the Doctor was hovering next to her, a hand on her shoulder as he gave it another light shake. "I'm awake, I'm awake," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt as she groggily climbed out of his car.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you Wednesday, then?"

She smiled, leaning forwards to loop her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Thank you for today," she said, as his own arms came to wrap around her shoulder blades. "It was nice, really nice."

"Any time, Soufflé Girl. I'll see you then," the Doctor replied, reluctantly letting go of her as she turned to head up the stairs to her flat. Like the first time he'd dropped her off, he waited until he saw the fifth-floor light turn on, before getting back in to his car and driving back to his now mildly Clara-ified flat, a thought that couldn't be described as unpleasant in the slightest.

* * *

**A/N: For any equine lovers out there, Chosen By A Horse is a must-read, it's absolutely heartbreaking (I was in tears for longer than I care to admit after the end) but thoroughly worth it :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates recently! I've had to pack ten hours and twenty pages of Spanish revision in to two days, so I just haven't had the time to write anything even vaguely read-able. I'm afraid this won't all be fluff, I have a few ideas going around in my brain but a nice chapter for now :)**

**I'm gonna go ahead and say this is set maybe a month on from the last chapter? We're in that kind of very close friendship-y stage...for now :P**

**Also, as a side note, isn't Clara's theme on the show amazing? I love it!**

* * *

"Clara?"

"Yes, hello, that's me. I know I'm asking a huge favour but is there any way you can pick me up from the school?"

The Doctor immediately replied with a 'yes'. They'd exchanged numbers a couple of weeks ago and he'd secretly been hoping for an opportunity to phone her ever since. Her voice was oddly comforting, the familiar Lancashire accent with a side of sass. "Where is it?"

"Baker Street. Turn left at the end of Piper Road, the one with the Co-Op on it."

"I know the one. Be there in ten?"

"You're a life-saver. Thank you!"

He could practically hear her grin as a relieved sigh came down the phone. "See you soon, Soufflé Girl."

Hanging up, he switched the library sign to 'closed' and headed out of the door. Part of him wondered why she needed picking up at half past five, as she was usually at the library by quarter to, but clearly something had come up that she needed to deal with. Not that it was a problem, quite the opposite. He just hoped nothing had happened to her, though perhaps that was him being a little overprotective as he revved up the engine.

* * *

Clara looked up and down the road again, wrapping her cardigan a little tighter around herself.

She'd had the day from hell, complete with a trip to Accident and Emergency with a pupil, and walking home in the cold just wasn't something she was looking forwards to. Her thoughts had immediately turned to the Doctor, as neither her nor Nina owned a car, and hearing his voice at the end of the line was something she was beyond grateful for.

The feeling of relief increased when the familiar blue Mini Cooper came cruising towards her, a man in a bowtie driving it. She stuck an arm out to let him know she was there, and practically flew around to the passenger seat before he'd even parked properly. "You have absolutely no idea how glad I am to see you," she said, taking a moment to lean back against the seat in the warmth.

"I'm rather glad to see you too, Soufflé Girl. Got to ask though, what's happened? You're not usually still here at this time, or at least not on Wednesday's."

"Long story. Day from hell. Can we stop off at a Starbucks or somewhere? I need caffeine, and I need it soon."

He chuckled, nodding. Once she'd put her seatbelt on, he switched the engine on, and it wasn't long before they were in motion, heading for the nearest Starbucks as Clara wrapped her arms around herself. The Doctor sensed she'd rather get something in her system before talking, so remained quiet, putting the radio on so things didn't get uncomfortable. Not that they had before, but there's a first time for everything.

It wasn't long before they were squished up on a small sofa by the window. Clara was clutching at her coffee as if her life depended on it, and the Doctor had bought her a chocolate brownie, sensing sugar would be a good route to go down to relieve whatever stress she'd had bought upon her. "So," he began. "What's happened?"

She sighed. "First period, I forgot my laptop, year seven chemistry, set my lab coat on fire by accident. Second period, year eleven, completely mess up the experiment and almost blow up the school by using too much potassium hydroxide. Third period, year sevens again, different class this time, in the middle of a practical when a fight breaks out and a girl who had nothing to do with it ended up having hydrochloric acid spilt up most of her arm. Fighters suspended for a week. Two hours in Accident and Emergency, she's alright but her parents aren't happy, I have to file official complaints and get questioned by the head and there's a very large chance I'm going to be fired. Manage to get a bus back to the school, not enough for two journeys and they've already locked up so I'm stuck outside in my cardigan with all my files inside and my phone on five percent battery."

She looked as if she were going to cry, and with good reasoning. The Doctor scooted closer towards her and placed an arm around her waist, rubbing small circles on the small of her back. "Is the girl okay?"

"Bit shaken up, but otherwise she's fine."

"Any scarring or skin damage?"

"No."

"Is hydrochloric acid toxic or corrosive?"

"No, it's an irritant, or the dilute one we use in practicals is anyway."

"There you are then. She's fine, you're fine, absolutely nothing to worry about. You won't get fired and the lab coat can be replaced, unless the files are absolutely vital they can wait until Monday. The school didn't blow up, the parents weren't going to be happy anyway and you have a week away from the fighters which must be a good thing," he told her quietly. "You've got the weekend off and I want you to relax over it, any work needs doing then bring it down to the library and I might be able to help. Okay?"

Clara nodded, taking a deep breath. She picked up the plate and devoured the brownie within minutes, casting a sideways look at the Doctor. "Shut up, I'm hungry," she told him, taking her final bite. He chuckled.

"Didn't say a word."

"You didn't need to. I've seen the amount of Jammy Dodgers you pack away so I'll take no criticism, thank you."

He chuckled again, watching as she put the plate down and leaned back against the sofa cushions. "Right then, Chinny. Do you need to get back to the library any time soon? Because if not then Nina's on a college trip until Monday and I have all the Harry Potter's on DVD. I'm in the mood for a onesie night and popcorn so do feel free to join. No teasing if I cry."

"Oh, I'm in. Mind if we stop off and get my onesie?"

"You have a onesie?!"

"I do. Never worn it but I can give it a go."

Clara bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing. The thought of the Doctor in a onesie was a mental image she never thought she'd conjure up, but here she was. "Right. In that case we'll stop off at yours, I've got food, unless Nina's eaten it all, and plenty of blankets."

"Sounds good to me, film choice?"

"Prisoner of Azkaban?"

"Perfect."

They both rose from their sofa, the Doctor still with his arm around her from earlier. Exiting the café, it took five minutes to reach his flat, for him to grab his onesie and to be back in the car again. Clara didn't need to direct him from the amount of times he'd driven her home in the past, simply sitting back and trying to choose between zebra or reindeer for the evening.

They parked the car and headed inside the block. Clara led the way up to the fifth floor, opening a door on the far side of the hall. The Doctor was immediately met by an absolute explosion of colour, a huge mural of all sorts along the small hallway.

"Sorry. Should have mentioned, Nina's an art student."

"Got it. She's very good."

"She is. Though coming home to find she's redecorated a room out of the blue isn't always the most pleasant experience. Bathroom's to the left, no hidden cameras, I promise."

"Always nice to know."

As Clara disappeared in to what he presumed to be her bedroom, he went in to the bathroom. Changing swiftly, he came back out in a full giraffe onesie, hood and all. A woman he used to know by the name of Amelia Pond had once bought it for him while slightly tipsy on a night out. He was sure he looked absolutely ridiculous, but never mind.

Clara emerged a few minutes later, looking slightly adorable in a brown reindeer onesie complete with felt antlers. She took one glance at the Doctor's appearance and promptly burst in to laughter, leaning against the doorframe for support. It took a good few minutes for her to compose herself, though she didn't stop smiling once as they gathered up their goodies and blankets.

Putting the DVD in, they waited as the familiar title screen came up. Clara pulled the curtains across and settled herself next to him, reaching forwards for a Malteaser for two. As the film started, she adjusted the blankets and curled her legs up underneath her, leaning against the Doctor to stop from keeling over. He pressed a kiss to her head as they watched Harry attempting his homework in the dark.

"The one thing I've never understood about these films is Ron and Harry's lack of enthusiasm in their work," Clara commented. "If I went to Hogwarts, certainly after being in Harry's position, I wouldn't want to stop."

"Fair point. Ron I can understand since it's normal for him, but Harry?"

"Hmm."

The film went on with the silence being broken only by the sound of eating. At some point during the evening, the Doctor's arm had found its way around Clara again - not that she was complaining. In those moments she'd stopped thinking about everything that had happened that day. She'd ignored her marking needs, her reports to type and completely forgotten the whole could-be-fired fiasco. She was perfectly happy to sit watching one of her childhood favourites, warm in the comfort of her home with one of her closest friends next to her as the evening ticked by until at some point, they'd both drifted off, her arm moving to sit across his waist as they did.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the last update! I'm watching Death Comes to Pemberley at the moment, it's gonna be odd seeing Jenna in it since I'm so used to her as Clara...ah well, looking forwards to it at any rate :)**

**Happy New Year!**

* * *

The first thing Clara Oswald saw upon waking was the rather obnoxious colours of bright yellow and brown.

The first thing Clara Oswald heard upon waking was somebody else's quiet breaths.

The first thing Clara Oswald felt was somebody else beneath her.

And the first thing Clara Oswald registered was that she'd woken up in her reindeer onesie halfway on top of the Doctor.

Now she was faced with two decisions: try and slip out to act normal and risk waking him, or stay where she was until he awoke naturally. Already she was leaning towards the latter, trying to convince herself that _it's just because you don't want to wake him_. Though to be entirely honest, that wasn't the reason at all, and Clara was fully aware of that as she felt herself slowly slip back in to sleep.

* * *

When the Doctor woke up, he expected to be in his own flat, in his own bed, alone, with a book on his nightstand, maybe a half-finished Jammy Dodger or two on a plate next to him. The usual morning stuff, before he'd get up and head down to his library.

Instead, he woke up on an unfamiliar sofa with the soft weight of a Clara Oswald-shaped figure on his torso.

The feeling wasn't exactly unpleasant, though how he was going to explain the situation to her was beyond him. He contemplated waking her - after all, it was nearly midday, and he had a library to get to - but she just looked so peaceful that the thought was dismissed.

Well. It would have been dismissed if he hadn't heard her door open.

Before he knew it, a voice had shouted "Merry Christmas Clara!" and a boy of about eleven appeared in their room, followed by a girl of around fifteen. They both stopped in surprised as they saw him and Clara on the sofa, clearly wondering who he was and what exactly he was doing in the flat. Though to be fair, he was wondering the same things about them.

Moving his hand from the small of her back where it had been resting to her shoulder, he gave it a shake. "Um, Clara? I think you've got...visitors," he said quietly as she woke.

"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily.

"You've got visitors."

Blinking, she looked around, eyes widening when she caught sight of the kids. "Shit," she muttered, hastily removing herself from him. "Angie, Artie!" she said brightly, deciding that the best way to deal with the current situation was to act completely normal, despite the blush she could feel lighting up her cheeks.

"Who's that?" Angie asked, looking pointedly at the Doctor, who was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was.

"Oh. Yes. This is my friend, the Doctor."

The Doctor smiled, giving a slightly awkward half-wave. Angie studied him for a moment before her look of slight shock turned in to a typical teenage smirk. "Well, Clara's _friend_-" the amount of emphasis she put on the word 'friend' was absolutely coated in sarcastic disbelief "-it's nice to meet you."

"And you."

Clara intervened, sensing the atmosphere. "And this is Artie," she said, getting herself a glass of water to try and wake up properly.

Artie seemed more willing to make an effort than Angie, who the Doctor presumed was his sister. The boy smiled at him. "Are you Clara's boyfriend?" he asked innocently, to which Clara almost spat out her water. "Nope, no, just friends," she hastily replied, ignoring Angie's steadily growing smirk. The Doctor nodded in agreement, wringing his hands.

"Sure you are," Angie remarked.

Clara walked over to the Doctor. "I think you should get changed," she whispered, gesturing to his giraffe onesie. He nodded, silently heading over to the bathroom to retrieve his daytime clothes.

"Um, so, where's your father? Surely he didn't let you come here by yourselves," she asked, searching for signs of George Maitland.

"He's still by the car," Angie said, sitting on the sofa already with her phone in her hands. Artie remained stood in the doorway, looking down the hallway where the Doctor had disappeared down.

"Clara?"

"Yes?"

"Why is that man here?"

Clara blinked. "Well, he drove me home because it was cold and we fell asleep before he left."

Artie seemed happy to accept this explanation, but a small snort was heard from the sofa. "Need a tissue, Angie?" Clara asked with an eyebrow raised. The girl shook her head, returning to her texting. Clara was completely aware of the situation and just how suspicious it looked - she'd woken up practically on top of a man on the sofa in her pyjamas, and whilst she knew nothing had happened, Angie clearly thought otherwise. Thank the stars Artie was young enough not to suspect anything.

"Right. Well. I'm going to get dressed, so if I'm not back by the time your father appears, tell him I won't be a minute."

As Clara's bedroom door closed, the bathroom door opened, and the Doctor carefully stepped in to the hallway. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation, and Clara seemed just as uncomfortable as he felt. He waited outside her bedroom door, deciding to choose that over spending another five minutes with a disbelieving (and slightly intimidating, at least to him) teenage girl.

After about seven minutes she emerged, wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time they'd spoken, which made him smile and feel a bit warm inside. "Beautiful," he said softly, kissing her forehead just as a flash went off.

"_Angie_!"

The girl was standing with her phone held up and pointing towards them. "Just friends, huh?"

"You delete that picture immediately."

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to, that should be reason enough."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"You didn't ask me a question."

"Statement then. Just friends? I can't say my friends ever kiss my forehead, but perhaps that's just us..."

"If one of my friends wants to kiss my forehead they can. And you still haven't deleted that picture."

"If it's so innocent, why should I have to delete it?" Angie replied slyly. The Doctor could see that Clara was beginning to get frustrated, and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, before looking Angie directly in the eye. "It's either you do it of your own free will or I get your dad involved."

The teenager contemplated her choices. The photo would come in handy, it was true, and she genuinely couldn't see the problem with it - nothing inappropriate going on, so why delete it? On the other hand, she really didn't want her phone confiscated either, and that'd be the result of her not deleting it now. "Fine," was her grudging answer. Clara watched as she erased the picture, before nodding. "Thank you."

She didn't get a reply before Angie turned and headed rather grumpily back to the lounge.

"I'm so sorry about that," Clara said, turning back to the Doctor. "I forgot they were coming today, didn't mean to sleep in so long."

"Hey, it's fine. I need to get back to the library anyway."

"Oh," Clara replied, cursing her voice for giving away her slight disappointment. "Okay. Well, thank you for keeping me company last night, and for the ride home."

He smiled. "Not a problem, Soufflé Girl. I'll see you soon, maybe?"

"Christmas Eve?"

"Christmas Eve it is."

"Did you want to go out, or should I meet you at the library?" Clara asked. He thought for a moment.

"Well, I know of a lovely Italian place about twenty minutes away, so maybe if you wanted to go, we could?"

She smiled then; properly smiled. Giving him a quick hug, she nodded. "Sure. I'll text you later."

Nodding, he gave her hand a squeeze. "Sounds like a plan," he said, as they walked down the hall to her front door.

"See you around, Chin Boy."

"And you, Soufflé Girl."

She couldn't help smiling at their usual farewell routine, waiting until he'd disappeared down the stairs before returning to the kids, who had been joined by their father. She said hello to George and listened to Artie telling her about his school science project, settling herself on her armchair. "Anybody fancy a game of Monopoly?" she asked. An immediate 'yes' came from Artie, and even Angie gave a shrug. George went to find the board as Angie walked over to the armchair.

"Chin Boy? Soufflé Girl?"

"Yes?"

"Boyfriend. Definitely boyfriend," was all she said, and Clara couldn't find it in her to do anything more than roll her eyes and smile.

* * *

**A/N: More semi-fluff. Now writing this note after watching Death Comes to Pemberley and I can confirm that Jenna was as amazing as predicted, she absolutely rocked Lydia Wickham, and it was awesome to see her in the character :) Anybody who hasn't had the chance, watch it! Happy New Year!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello again, lovely whoufflepuffs. I promise I'll incorporate a plot in to this soon but a) I'm more of a one-shot writer so I'm still adjusting and b) I'm enjoying writing plotless fluff far more than I probably should be. Hope you enjoy!**

**A big, whouffle-filled thank you to everybody who's reviewed/followed/favourited/simply read this, it really means a lot :)**

**Texts are in italic :)**

* * *

It was around half past six that evening when Clara felt her phone buzz.

She was playing Scrabble with Artie, who insisted that it would help him with his spelling, whilst Angie watched a few episodes of some American television show, still glued to her mobile. George Maitland had gone home with a promise to pick the kids up at eight, so they'd been filling the time with a games marathon. Or, more specifically, Clara and Artie had been filling the time with a games marathon. Angie had joined in the odd one, but still seemed in a bit of a huff, so Clara had decided that just letting her get on with things was the best approach.

She looked at her phone screen to find that the message was from the Doctor, something that immediately made her smile. _'Shall we discuss plans yet?'_ it said.

_'Sure.'_

Within a minute of her reply being sent, another pinged back._ 'Okay. What time should I book the table for? Going to need to give some notice if we want to get one.'_

_'Half seven?'_

_'Sounds good. I'll pick you up at about seven then?'_

_'Seven sounds great,'_ she replied, just as Artie tapped her elbow. "Clara, it's been your turn for three and a half minutes now."

Briefly laying out the tiles to form the word "paradox" and whipping up a triple word bonus as she did, her eyes returned to her screen as she realised just how much like Angie she looked in that moment.

_'You never did tell me how you lost your right shoe when we first spoke.'_

The message made her smile. She'd almost forgotten the fact that she was partially shoeless on that day (she still had the remaining shoe tucked away at the back of her cupboard).

'_When I walk home I normally cut through a field. Didn't realise how muddy it was. Couldn't see shoe within a minute after losing it. Gave up._'

_'And you kept walking through mud with one shoe?!'_

She could practically hear his astonishment. _'No, idiot. I went back to the pavement and took the long route.'_

_'That makes sense.'_

"Who are you texting?" Angie piped up, looking over at Clara who was holding her phone in one hand, a Scrabble tile on the other and a grin on her face. She looked over at the teenager. "One of my friends, like you are."

"Which friends? Actual friends or friends you wake up on top of in the morning who like to kiss your forehead?"

Clara rolled her eyes slightly. "Friends," she replied, laying out another word to reach a double letter. Artie sighed, only managing to produce a three-letter word out of the one she'd produced. He looked up at her. "Are you talking to that man?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

Artie nodded. "What's his name?"

"The Doctor."

"What kind of name is that?" Angie asked from the sofa.

"His name," Clara replied simply, setting down another word and watching as Artie frowned, trying to think of one to match it. A triumphant cry came from him as he placed down "phobia", earning him a triple word and a double letter on the 'b'. Her phone buzzed again.

_'So, what are you up to?'_

_'Playing Scrabble and being questioned by Angie Maitland, recently appointed chief interrogator of the FBI for Suspicious Friendships.'_

_'...Interesting.'_

_'More painful than interesting.'_

"Clara?"

"Yes?"

"I'm out of letters."

Clara glanced down at the sheet of paper which had their scores written on it. In her distraction, Artie had manage to beat her by almost fifty points, something unheard of as she almost always won. His face lit up as he saw the results, grinning. "Excellently played," he said, holding out his hand to Clara, who shook it with as much seriousness as she could muster. "And you," she replied, packing the set away and heading over to her armchair.

"Can we watch something else now?" Artie asked. America's Next Top Model wasn't really his thing.

"Of course we can. Pass the remote, Angie," Clara asked, accepting it and flicking through the channels. They had a choice of Strictly Come Dancing or Junior Masterchef, eventually opting for Strictly. Clara found herself tapping her foot in time with the tunes. She'd taken dance classes when she was younger and had always longed to be able to dance like the people on the show, but her ankles were prone to nasty sprains, and she'd lost interest shortly after her mum died.

Yet again, a sharp vibration from her phone drew Clara's eyes to the smaller screen, not noticing Angie's knowing smirk from the sofa.

_'Am I allowed to see you before Christmas Eve? I don't know how these things work!'_

She sighed. Oh, Doctor.

_'If you want. Got something in mind?'_

_'Wondered when Clara's Cooking Class: Lesson Two would be happening. I'm living off of fish fingers and potatoes at the moment and I wouldn't mind a change.'_

_'I'm free tomorrow afternoon?'_

_'Sounds like a plan :)'_

Clara could practically hear his excitement. _'Does Clara's Cooking Class: Lesson Two take place on the same day as The Doctor's Film Knowledge Class: Lesson Two, or not?'_

_'If you'd like it to.'_

Technically they hadn't completed lesson one if her blatantly falling asleep halfway through the film was anything to go by, but she couldn't deny that an afternoon of baking and film-watching with the Doctor was something she'd look forwards to. Hopefully this time she wouldn't end up falling asleep, though it had to be said, the Doctor made an incredibly comfortable pillow...

"Clara? Are you alright?"

"Mm?"

"You suddenly went red," Artie informed her, a look of concern etched upon his face. "Should I get you some water?"

She smiled at his concern. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"She's just thinking about her boyfriend," Angie commented, earning her a sharp look of annoyance from Clara. She (Clara) wondered about trying to convince the teenager again but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Angie was just as stubborn as her, probably more so, and if she worded something wrong then she was stuffed.

By the time Strictly had finished, it was ten past eight, and George was waiting in the hallway. Artie hugged Clara goodbye, making her promise to play more Scrabble games. Even Angie smiled at her, a proper smile, not her usual smirks. She waved until they were out of sight down the staircase before closing the door and walking back down her Nina-ified, multicoloured hallway. Part of her wanted to make a soufflé, but for some reason she didn't feel like doing so alone. Nina would be back in two days and she was seeing the Doctor tomorrow, but a childish part of her wanted to sit down and demand company now.

After twenty minutes of tidying what didn't need to be tidied, rearranging what didn't need to be rearranged and even sorting her clothes in to colour order, she decided to phone the Doctor. Just to speak to him.

It was only then that she realised she'd spoken to him that exact morning. In person. And she already wanted to phone him again?

Better not let Angie find out about this.

Scrolling through her (quite sadly short) list of phone contacts, she pressed the 'call' button and waited for him to answer. It took three rings and the dialling tone for him to pick up, greeting her with a cheerful "evening, Clara!" and subsequently making her smile.

"Evening, Doctor."

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine. Just wanted to talk to you, really."

"About what?"

"Not about anything. Just...talk."

His smile was almost audible. "Well then, Clara Oswald," he said, just as happy as she was to hear her voice again. "I'm sure 'just talking' is something we can do."

"I'm sure it is."

* * *

**A/N: If the next update takes a while, I'm sorry - chemistry mock coming up so less writing time (plus I need to decide between about three possible plotlines to go down). I'd love some reviews, constructive or not (only takes a few seconds!) :)**

**Also, if anybody's interested, my whouffle tumblr blog is whouffles-and-souffles :)**


	8. Chapter 8 Part 1

**A/N: Last update until late this week at the earliest I'm afraid, back at school now and the revision tidal wave has hit me hard. Split this in to two parts, will hopefully have the next up by the end of the week :)**

**Thank you so much to everybody who's reviewed/favourited/followed, makes my day to see people genuinely enjoying this :)**

* * *

Clara bit her lip in nervous frustration as she studied the clothes in front of her for what had to be the twelfth time that day.

Her "date" with the Doctor was scheduled for two hours away and she had no idea what to wear.

Normally, Clara wasn't the type of woman to get flustered about her looks. She liked to look nice, yes, but it wasn't particularly high up on her priority list, valuing sleep over anything else which limited her getting-ready time in the mornings. So when it came to going out, which she didn't do particularly often anyway, she simply had no idea what to do.

She had three dress options; tartan casual, dark crimson with cardigan which was one of her best, or blouse and skirt. It all depended on how much he was dressing up - taking that in to consideration, was it even a date to begin with? Various thoughts circulated her mind, making her consider whether saying yes had been a good idea in the first place. Blouse and skirt was a bit teacher-ish, and whilst she loved her job, she didn't really want to feel like she was at work during an evening out.

"Nina!"

A head poked around the door as her flatmate appeared, pushing her curly black hair out of her eyes. "What is it?" she asked, a paintbrush in her left hand and a colour-splashed rag in her right.

"I don't know what to wear."

A knowing smirk not unlike those of Angie's came from Nina. "Is little Clara in a panic about what to wear for her date?" she teased, earning her a sharp look from Clara. "I don't know how smart to go. Red or tartan?"

"Red. Brings out your eyes, worse comes to worst and you are ridiculously overdressed then you'll still look great."

The sharp look melted in to one of relief as Clara smiled. "You lifesaver. No falling off of any stools whilst I'm away, and no repainting my bedroom, I thought I was going to throw up after a night surrounded by paint fumes."

Nina rolled her eyes, smiling and disappearing in to another room. "You love it really!" she called back, making Clara shake her head with a smile as she changed.

* * *

About half past six she was ready, wondering why she was nervous. Maybe it was because she hadn't been out much? After all, even in her teenage years, Clara had been a solitary person, choosing to stay at home instead of join her friends at their parties. Maybe it was because of her clothing choice. Maybe it was because they hadn't seen each other in a few days.

Maybe it was because this was much more like a date than any of their other "dates".

Stuffing her phone, hairbrush, purse, a book and a bottle of water in her handbag, she settled herself on top of the shoe-rack in the hallway, casually patterned with an interpretation of Vincent Van Gogh's _Starry Night_. She didn't realise she was tapping her foot against the floor until Nina asked if she was dancing her way down the hall, promptly causing her to stop. Peeking in at her roommate, she could see that for once, Nina was using a canvas instead of her furniture. Clara hadn't the faintest idea what she was painting as she was only a few minutes in, but it looked good.

At seven exactly, the doorbell rang.

Clara nearly jumped out of her skin. Nina went to open it, and soon enough the familiar voice of the Doctor could be heard in their hallway. Clara picked up her handbag, and the Doctor's mouth literally fell open when he saw her (she could only assume that was a good thing). It had to be said, he'd made an effort, which eliminated that worry. He still had his usual purple tweed on, but he'd exchanged his normal bow tie for a smarter, newer one, and the trousers were definitely new too.

"You...you look...wow," was all the Doctor manage to get out, making Clara smile. She gave Nina a goodbye hug with another reminder about no paint in her bedroom, before slipping her arm through the Doctor's as they headed out.

Just after she'd closed the flat door, he gently touched her arm. "You look beautiful," he said softly, which even managed to create a small blush. "Don't look too bad yourself," Clara replied, linking their arms together again as they headed out towards the car park. His familiar blue Mini was neatly on the curb, and he held her door open as usual, waiting until she'd settled herself before walking over to his side.

"Should take about twenty minutes," he told her, revving up the engine. Nodding, Clara took out her book and switched on the book lamp that she'd attached to the back cover. "Anything good?" the Doctor asked, having a quick peer to see if he could see anything. She nodded. "The Winter Ghosts, by Kate Mosse. Fifth time reading it, really good book."

"Never read it. I've read one of her other ones though, Labyrinth I think it was? Good writer. Excellent plotlines. I love a good plotline."

Clara smiled, nodding. "Don't we all?" she replied, making herself comfortable before returning to the pages.

The journey passed quickly, the silence a comfortable one as they drove through the evening air. The restaurant was near Covent Garden, where they'd had their first non-Starbucks coffee together, so it was a good feeling to be returning there. It would also be their first meal together that hadn't resulted in a previous disaster; on their cooking/film lesson crossover three days before the Doctor had managed to drop the wooden spoon, tread on it trying to pick it up and subsequently break it in half, meaning they'd had to do a last moment supermarket dash before the red velvet cake they'd been making burned. The film choice that day had been Skyfall, another title the Doctor was shocked Clara hadn't seen. All in all it had resulted in a very pleasant afternoon, plus the cake was gorgeous.

After around twenty minutes, as the Doctor predicted, they found the car park near their destination. Paying the fare, they set off down the pavement, arms linked once again as they resumed their earlier conversation, the subject quickly progressing on to a discussion over the character of Lydia Bennett in Pride and Prejudice (later Lydia Wickham), about whether they thought her elopement was right or wrong. The Doctor commented that he could picture Clara looking a bit like the character, perhaps not in personality but in appearance.

It wasn't long before they reached Carluccio's, their restaurant of choice for the evening. Clara was glad she'd decided on the dress she had as it was clearly quite a high class place, she'd have stuck out like a sore thumb had she gone for casual. They walked over to the podium where a waiter was standing. "I made a reservation for two, should be under the name of John Smith?"

"Ah, yes. Mr and Mrs Smith, would you care to-"

"No, we're not married," the two of them said in unison, promptly cutting off the waiter mid-sentence.

"My apologies. If you would please follow me?"

They were seated at a table in the corner, right by a window, which Clara had secretly been hoping for. She'd never been to an establishment such as the one she was currently in, looking up at the patterned ceiling, on which a careful mosaic was laid out, depicting a complex pattern of red and gold.

"It's okay here? You like it?"

The Doctor's voice brought her back down to reality. "I love it," she confirmed, grinning at him before opening her menu and scanning the options. She'd never heard of most of the dishes, opting for a kind of pasta with pork and a tomato-based sauce, the Doctor choosing fish. They talked some more about books before moving on to films, the Doctor spontaneously producing a notebook and pencil from his jacket. "Right," he started. "Time to start an official List Of Films That Clara Oswald Needs To Watch. I'll name some of my favourite films, you tell me if you've seen them."

"Fire away."

"The Hunger Games."

"Seen."

"Pirates of the Caribbean."

"Nope."

"Thor."

"Nope."

"Hugo."

"Seen."

They continued on like this for at least another ten minutes, the Doctor filling two pages with hastily scribbled film titles, in disbelief at just how little she'd seen. Clara couldn't deny that it was an entertaining sight; watching his eyebrows getting higher and higher up his forehead with each film he named that she'd never watched.

More aimless chatter filled the time as they waited, eventually being presented with two plates of absolutely delicious looking food. The pair dug in simultaneously, taking not fifteen minutes to clear their plates, sitting back after doing so.

"I think that's the best pasta I've ever tasted," Clara commented, placing her cutlery back in the bowl. The Doctor nodded in agreement, having pinched a bit to try it. "Fish wasn't bad either. Shame about the lack of custard."

"For the sake of my stomach I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last bit."

"Go ahead."

The Doctor was just about to re-engage her in a bookish conversation when Clara's phone rang. "It's Nina. Is it okay if I...?"

He nodded immediately, knowing it would likely be something important considering Nina knew about their evening. A frown took over his face as Clara's eyes widened and a murmur of something that sounded suspiciously like "no" escaped her lips.

"Okay. I can be there. Thank you for phoning."

She shoved her phone back in to her bag. "Doctor," she said quietly, her voice wobbling dangerously as she swallowed nervously.

"What's happened?"

"It's Nina. She's been in an accident, they didn't say what kind. I'm so sorry but I really need to get to the hospital, the majority of her family are out of the country and I'm the only one who can get there in less than an hour."

"I'll drive you, it'll be quicker than phoning a taxi."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure."

She hugged him then, a momentary wave of relief washing over her before she tensed again. Her eyes were beginning to feel watery as his arms firmly wrapped around her waist, a faint whisper of "it's going to be okay" ghosting past her right ear. They paid their bill and practically sprinted to the car, the Doctor having picked up that the situation wasn't looking particularly good as they sped along the motorways. He only hoped that Clara would be able to cope should things be as serious as they sounded.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, not a particularly happy way to end the chapter, but I'm going to have to hope that the fluff at the beginning at least partially makes up for it. Part Two should be up some time this week :)**

**Reviews would be wonderful, they only take a few seconds! Also, 'The Winter Ghosts' is a huuuuuge favourite book of mine, the blurb doesn't do the story justice. I'd definitely recommend it!**


	9. Chapter 8 Part 2

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the last update, bit of a nightmare week involving four separate exams, stress, slight sleep deprivation and illness. Ugh. Hoping this will live up to any expectations set, and I'll try and get the next update out a bit faster! A few descriptions of bruises and the like in this chapter, hoping that's not too bad for anybody reading this.**

**Congratulations to Matt and to Doctor Who in general for winning at the National Television Awards - didn't Jenna look stunning? Absolutely gorgeous!**

* * *

It was the first awkward silence they'd ever had together.

Clara was fiddling with her rings, twisting them about and biting her lip, phone in her lap in case it was needed. The Doctor would glance at her every now and then to check she hadn't gotten too stressed, doing his best to get to the hospital quickly. Part of him felt that whoever it was that had phoned her should have been more specific with what was happening - facts could be horrible, but nothing was worse than a constant state of ignorance.

Thanks to some rather demanding phone calls from the Doctor on the way there, they now knew that the accident had happened either in or near the flat, that nobody else was involved and that it didn't look to be fatal, which was a huge reassurance. They'd both been warned that the external damage looked quite bad, but that the internal was much less severe.

After hearing what sounded suspiciously like a choked-back sob, the Doctor silently took one hand off the wheel and placed it on her knee gently. It stayed there for a couple of minutes before Clara quietly held it with her own, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"It's okay to cry, you know."

"If I start, I won't stop."

"Then don't stop. Nobody's going to be angry at you for crying."

"I know."

They fell in to silence again, the Doctor locating the hospital car park and finding a space, paying the appropriate fee before climbing out, walking swiftly around the vehicle to open the door for Clara. She managed a weak half-smile, taking hold of his hand again for support as they walked up to the front doors.

* * *

Clara Oswald hated hospitals.

She'd been nine when she first recalled being in one, when she'd awkwardly fallen off a swing set and broken her left ankle. Even then, she'd detested it, everything seeming too white and shiny, almost robotic. The fact that people could be dying all around her was a thought that kept pushing it's way in to her brain, and the moment she'd been allowed outside she'd sworn she would never set foot in the place again.

Luckily, she'd managed to avoid all future encounters, unless you counted picking up her grandmother at the age of twelve. The last time she'd been in one was when she was fifteen, the day her mother died. That memory was one that she knew would never leave her, and there was an overwhelming horror about the fact that within ten minutes, she'd be in exactly the same position as she had been those years ago, sitting by a hospital bed this time with her best friend in it.

She hadn't been able to speak for fear of sparking some sort of unwanted tear-based flood, so the Doctor had done all of it. It wasn't long before a stern-looking nurse in a prim blue nurses dress showed them to the room they were looking for, noting something on her clipboard and telling them they had ten minutes.

"I'll wait here," the Doctor said quietly, sensing it best that Clara saw Nina alone. She nodded, pulling her hand away as she walked towards the curtain.

Said hand went immediately to her mouth as she saw her flatmate.

Admittedly Nina wasn't quite the emaciated bloodbath her panicking mind had conjured up, but practically the entirety of the left side of her face was bruised. She had a cut on her left arm amongst a couple of other bruises, and what looked like a carpet burn on her neck. Either unconscious or asleep, as her eyes were closed and there was no acknowledgement that Clara was there.

A nurse was sat next to the bed. "It's really not as bad as it looks," she said softly. "A lot of external bruising but no organs damaged, sprained wrist but no breaks to the bones. She'll be sore when she wakes up, but it's not too bad."

"What-what happened?"

"According to a neighbour she fell down the stairs of your flat, she was found on the ground floor. She was texting a Clara Oswald at the time, who I presume to be you, so it looks like she wasn't paying much attention and slipped on the stairs."

"Yeah, I'm her flatmate. We live on the fifth floor, the stairs double back on themselves, how did she fall down all of them?"

"It's been presumed that when she tripped, she fell over the banister at one point, which caused her to land on the next staircase down. Admittedly no, she didn't fall from the fifth floor, it was more likely the second."

"Okay. Thank you."

Clara looked down at her friend, gently lifting her head to smooth her hair down. Knowing Nina, her, first complaint would have been how badly her already curly hair was going to frizz, so it was easiest to avoid that now. A small smile appeared as Clara realised she was still clutching a paintbrush and in her apron, though that smile soon faded as she noticed what looked a lot like stitches around a couple of her fingers.

"What happened to her hand?"

"We think she cut it on something during the fall. It'll heal up fine in a couple of weeks, the stitches were a precaution."

Clara nodded, taking a seat. It was surreal, seeing Nina so still in a blank bed surrounded by blank walls. She was so used to the trail of paint and colour that seemed to follow her usually active flatmate, and viewing her in such a condition was almost scary. The whole situation was what could only be described as sorrowfully grim, Clara thought, trying to focus on the unharmed side of Nina's face in an attempt to make the situation better.

Time passed surprisingly quickly, as before long, the strict-looking nurse from earlier was telling her she had to leave. Dropping a kiss on Nina's forehead and leaving her contact details with the nurse she'd spoken to, she took a deep breath and emerged from behind the curtain.

The Doctor was standing by the door, looking worried as he watched her walk towards him. In that moment, her resolve crumbled, having been held together for longer than he thought humanly possible. He opened his arms and she half-fell in to them, her slim frame convulsing with every quiet sob. They remained like this for a good four minutes, the Doctor carefully manoeuvring them in to a slightly more private area to save Clara from feeling any embarrassment.

She took a few more moments to console herself and wipe any rogue mascara off of her cheeks, before letting the Doctor lead her back to the car. Clara leaned back against the head rest of her seat, taking a few deep breaths as he started the engine. Immediately, the Doctor knew she wouldn't want to go back to her flat. Not yet. Deciding he could sleep on the sofa, he checked it was okay with her and drove them back to his, stopping briefly to pick up some milk in case she wanted a cup of tea.

Within ten minutes, Clara was curled up with a cup of tea on the Doctor's sofa, having swapped her dress for one of his shirts. It was ridiculously oversized on her, falling to around her knees like a curtain, but she didn't care. They'd started watching Mary Poppins, Clara's childhood favourite, in an attempt to take her mind off of happenings.

"I'm sorry about today."

The Doctor looked down at her. "Sorry for what?"

"For everything going so wrong," she replied. "Cutting things off in the middle, all that."

"Absolutely nothing was your fault, so don't you go blaming yourself. I'm fine, you're fine, Nina's going to be fine and we can go out again any time you want. I thoroughly enjoyed tonight, up until the end of it anyway, so there's nothing to apologise for."

She smiled then, resting her head against his arm and taking a sip of tea. "I didn't plan it if that's what you're asking."

"I know you didn't."

They continued watching in an altogether more peaceful silence.

* * *

"Doctor!"

The first sound he heard was crying.

Hastily removing himself from the sofa in a hurricane of tangled limbs, the Doctor headed towards his bedroom, opening the door to reveal a sleeping but clearly tormented Clara. She'd kicked the duvet away and her face looked as if she were in pain. It was clear she was in the middle of what could only be described as a seriously nasty nightmare, which was hardly surprising given their day.

It took three shoulder shakes and a small poke to wake her up. She looked embarrassed, opening her mouth as if to explain, but he simply shook his head. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the bed and asking whether he could lie down or not. She nodded, turning to face him as he did. Nothing was said, just Clara shuffling closer to the Doctor as she quietly explained her nightmare, him reassuring her that Nina was okay as she did, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and gently pulling her in to a tight embrace.

If Angie could see them now.


End file.
